


All Will Be Well

by lynnearlington



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-22
Updated: 2012-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-31 14:12:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/344908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynnearlington/pseuds/lynnearlington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Quinn is in the hospital, Rachel doesn’t go to see her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Will Be Well

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for 3x14

The first time Quinn is in the hospital, Rachel doesn’t go to see her.    
  
Regionals is going on after all and someone has to represent New Directions while the rest of the team is gone. As captain, Rachel is the obvious choice. It’s doubtful Quinn would miss her there anyway.    
  
Finn texts her not long after she watches Jesse perform with Vocal Adrenaline. It’s simple, but it makes Rachel smile.    
  
_it’s a girl! :)_   
  
This nervous tightness that’s settled in the pit of her stomach since everyone fled for the hospital unravels. She lets out a low breath and texts back.    
  
_Great news! Tell Quinn I said congratulations. <3_   
  
\--   
  
It’s days later when she sees Quinn again, out of the hospital and noticeably slimmer than before. Their eyes meet across the hallway and Rachel lets her gaze flicker down to Quinn’s flat stomach and back up. She smiles, nods and hopes Quinn understands her meaning.    
  
It takes a few seconds, but Quinn, hands clasped in front of her stomach, lets the side of her lips quirk up. Then, like it never happened, the smile fades, her eyes turn away and she walks around the corner out of sight.    
  
It’s strangely the closest she’s ever felt to Quinn Fabray. She almost laughs, but it’s not really that funny.    
  
\--   
  
The second time Quinn is in the hospital, Rachel nearly injures herself trying to get there as quickly as possible. Her dress tears on the way out of the courthouse, she trips a few feet from her father’s car and she’s pretty positive her heart is going to beat out of her chest.    
  
Finn’s hands steady the shaking in her own, but it’s not enough. Not when the terror she feels in her gut is reflected so clearly on his face.    
  
They don’t get to see her right away. Mrs. Fabray is in the waiting room when they come rushing in, her mascara streaked down her face and hands shaking on the straps of a black leather purse. They’re told to sit down until they have more information. Mrs. Fabray tries to speak, but it comes out choked, one hand grabbing uselessly at her throat.    
  
Everything blurs to a dull roar after that. Rachel watches as doctors and nurses walk around them, her fathers go to Mrs. Fabray’s side and Mr. Schue talks to a man in blue scrubs. Finn’s hand is still squeezing hers, almost painfully tight, but Rachel can’t let go. The rest of the glee club shuffles restlessly around as they wait.    
  
“She’s in surgery,” someone informs them - Rachel’s not really sure who it is. All she can do is twist her engagement ring around her finger and stare at the dirt swashed across the white tips of her shoes. “She should be out soon. We’ll know better after that.”    
  
Finn ushers her to a chair and keeps their hands together. She focuses on the sound of his breathing, barely audible over the heavy beat of her heart. The last image she has of Quinn is vivid in her mind, clearer than anything else she can see at the moment.    
  
(Bright red and white Cheerios uniform, perfect ponytail, even more perfect smile. The way Quinn looked at her with happy eyes, the words of support and friendship that dropped out of her mouth. The feeling of her, alive and breathing, in Rachel’s arms.)   
  
It’s probably not the right thing to say, but it comes out anyway, whispered and desperate. “We just started to become friends.”    
  
Finn must hear her because he looks down, his brows pulled together in sad confusion. “She’ll be okay, Rach,” he says.    
  
She lets her eyes pick up and scans the room, sees Kurt biting his thumb in the corner, Blaine picking restlessly at the cuff of his tux with a tight jaw. Brittany’s whispering something to Santana, their faces huddled together and hidden from view. Mike is handing Tina a cup of coffee and her dads are still talking to Judy. Mercedes is pacing and Sam is watching her with a worried frown.    
  
It’s suddenly all too much and Rachel stands abruptly, dropping Finn’s hand.    
  
“I have to go,” she announces to no one in particular, but all eyes whip towards her. It’s usually an empowering feeling to have a stage like this, but all Rachel wants to do is run.    
  
“Rach,” she hears Finn say, but she doesn’t stay for the rest, just beelines it towards the exit and doesn’t look back.    
  
Her dads find her not too long after, sobbing against the brick wall of the hospital. They take her home and don’t ask questions and Rachel empties the rest of her tears into the pink fabric of her pillow.    
  
Finn’s text comes late that night, just as her eyes are finally drying.    
  
_she’s out of surgery. we can see her in the morn._   
  
A shaky breath escapes her and her thumb hovers over her screen, debating what to write. Unwillingly, she thinks of the last text she sent and her face scrunches up in pain.    
  
It’s torture, but she’s already tabbing back through her text messages until  _Quinn Fabray_  is at the top of her screen and she reads the little green bubble at the bottom as her throat chokes on guilt filled tears.    
  
_On my way._   
  
\--   
  
Finn calls her in the morning, but she doesn’t pick up.    
  
By noon there are six voicemails waiting on her phone. Two from Finn, two from Kurt, another from Blaine, and even one from Santana.    
  
She deletes them without listening. There’s no question what they all say.    
  
Eighteen text messages mock her from the home screen, but she doesn’t dare open them either. She doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to look at a text message the same again.    
  
“Are you not going to visit your friend?” Her dad asks sometime that afternoon. She hasn’t moved, her fingers curled around her pillow and her eyes fixed on the pastel colors of her wall.    
  
“I will,” she whispers out, voice hoarse.    
  
“Soon?”    
  
“Yeah,” she answers even though she’s not sure it’s true.    
  
“Finn’s stopped by a few times-”    
  
“I don’t want to see anyone.” She can’t see Finn. Can’t see him and think about their wedding and how it didn’t happen and  _why_  it didn’t. She can’t. She just...can’t.    
  
They leave her alone after that and it’s almost worse because being left in her own head is torture. The last memories of Quinn, the smell of hospital, the deafening fear of not knowing whether Quinn is really okay or not.    
  
Late that night, she finally gets up and tries to leave, but only gets as far as her bedroom door before turning back.    
  
After a deep breath, tucked back under the covers of her bed, she reads one of the text messages from Finn.    
  
_she’s awake. u should come visit. ppl are getting worried._   
  
\--   
  
It’s not until the next morning that she finally makes it to the hospital. Alone.    
  
“Quinn Fabray, please,” she tells the nurse at reception, barely getting name out coherently.    
  
The nurse gives her a sympathetic look and points her in the direction of Quinn’s room.    
  
Santana comes around the corner just as Rachel gets close, Brittany just a few steps behind her, their hands clasped together.    
  
“Where the  _hell_  have you been?” Santana spits out immediately, eyes hard.    
  
Brittany whispers something to Santana that makes her face soften a little and before Rachel can say anything else, Brittany is addressing her. “You should go in there. She’s been asking for you.”    
  
They walk by her and it’s a good thing too because Rachel’s about to cry again. She didn’t think she had any tears left, but they’re leaking from her eyes anyway.    
  
With a determined nod of her head and a swipe of her hand over her cheeks, she manages to walk the last few steps to Quinn’s room and push the door open.    
  
The voice is almost immediate once she steps foot in the room, familiar, but with an edge to it that wasn’t there before. “I was wondering when you’d finally show up.”    
  
“Quinn,” she breathes out, stepping quickly to her bedside, all hesitation bleeding out of her.    
  
“Hey.” There’s a stark white bandage on Quinn’s head, a plethora of beeping monitors congregated around her bed, and more wires than Rachel’s ever seen travelling everywhere. Purple splotches cover Quinn’s face and over the visible parts of her arms. Rachel doesn’t know how to reconcile the image of immaculate head cheerleader Quinn Fabray with the one in the hospital bed.    
  
“How are you feeling?”    
  
Quinn laughs, but the sound cuts off into a pained cough and Rachel’s hand twitches towards her. “I feel like I’ve been in a massive car crash.”    
  
“Quinn,” Rachel says again, eyes roaming over her face as a steady metallic beep resounds in her ears. Quinn’s heartbeat. Her eyes start to water again.    
  
Quinn manages to scoff. “ _Of course_  you’d be dramatic about this.”    
  
“It  _is_  dramatic,” Rachel defends and they smile at each other for a second. Rachel lets her hand rest near Quinn’s on the bed, the warmth comforting.    
  
“I’m sorry,” Quinn says after a second, her fingers shifting towards the hand Rachel’s rested on the bed.    
  
“For what?”    
  
“Kind of stole your spotlight there.”    
  
Rachel’s brows pull together, jaw dropping, but Quinn continues. “Your wedding. Didn’t think you’d appreciate how I just sort of swooped in and stole the spotlight on your big day.”    
  
“I-I, I can’t believe, of course,” Rachel stutters, her face caught between a laugh and a sob. She settles for another softly spoken, “Quinn,” heavy with affection.    
  
“At least you’ll always have a good story to tell about your wedding day,” Quinn jokes, a crooked smile on her face.    
  
“It’s not funny,” Rachel says, eyes brimming with tears.    
  
Quinn looks away. “I know,” she whispers.    
  
An uncomfortable silence drops around them until Rachel can’t take it any longer.    
  
“You’ll be happy to hear that Finn and I didn’t go through with it.” Her eyes search Quinn’s face for reaction, but she doesn’t find any. “You stopped it after all,” she adds in a joking tone.    
  
“I thought you said it’s not funny,” Quinn bites out.    
  
“Sorry,” Rachel says quietly.    
  
A few more seconds pass, Rachel’s fingers pluck at the blue blanket over Quinn’s legs.    
  
“I said I supported you,” Quinn says finally.    
  
“I know you did,” Rachel replies, eyes lifting to lock with hazel ones.    
  
They stare at each other for a few moments, history passing between them and Rachel sits in wonder that this is where she is right now, standing by Quinn Fabray’s bedside. The memory of years ago washes over her.  _Quinn and Rachel: A History._   
  
“Are you going to be okay?” Rachel finally asks in a small voice. “What do the doctor’s say?”    
  
Quinn’s eyes dart away for a second, her jaw tightening. “They don’t really know. Depends how the physical therapy goes...I mean. I’m alive so...that’s good.”    
  
“You have to get better,” Rachel says, voice firm. “We have nationals to win after all and you’re back on Cheerio’s again and-”    
  
“Rachel,” Quinn admonishes, frowning.    
  
“I’ll never forgive myself if you don’t get better, Quinn,” she confesses.    
  
“What?”    
  
“It was all my fault and-”    
  
“It was  _not_ ,” Quinn says, sounding almost angry.    
  
“I was texting you!” Rachel exclaims. “Telling you to hurry! If I hadn’t, then maybe...”    
  
Quinn rolls her eyes and it’s an absurd thing to find comforting, but Rachel can’t help the way the motion settles something inside her. “Look, Rachel. I’d be the first one to blame you for anything if possible, but you can’t take blame for this, okay? I was the one that decided to text and drive. I was the one that wasn’t looking-”    
  
Quinn’s eyes shut tight for a second and Rachel knows she’s seeing it all again, sees the pain and anguish all over her face.    
  
“Okay,” she agrees, just to get Quinn to stop looking like that.    
  
“I’ll be fine,” Quinn says after a deep breath. “I’ve got a lot of physical therapy and everything to get through, but if I work hard...”    
  
“I’ll help you,” Rachel says immediately, her fingers curling lightly around Quinn’s.    
  
Quinn’s eyes move from their hands to Rachel’s face, a hesitant happiness in her smile. “Because we’re friends?”    
  
Rachel grins for the first time in days and nods. “Because we’re friends.    
  
It’s nothing significant at the time, but looking back years later, Rachel will know that it’s the moment when it all changed.    
  
\--   
  
(She tells Finn she can’t marry him the day Quinn gets released from the hospital. He takes it heartbreakingly well, but she can’t look at either of them for weeks after it happens and she’s not entirely sure why.    
  
Finn, she gets.    
  
Quinn, not so much.)   
  
\--   
  
The third time Quinn is in the hospital, Rachel gets the text in the middle of her Voice and Shakespeare class and drops all her books in a loud crash as she stumbles out of the auditorium.    
  
Two years later and she’s still not over the last time Quinn was in the hospital. The memories plague her the entire train ride to New Haven.    
  
“Rachel!” Quinn’s voice rings out across the ER and her head whips towards the sound. She weaves in and out of doctors and nurses to get to a bed in the corner, Quinn perched on the edge with her arm propped up on a small table.    
  
“Quinn!”    
  
Quinn studies her with a furrow in her brow. “What are you doing here?”    
  
“Santana texted me. She couldn’t get out of work.” Breathless, she looks over to Quinn’s arm, bandaged up to the elbow. “What happened?”    
  
“Why did Santana text you?”    
  
“Because you’re hurt!” Rachel exclaims, gesturing wildly at Quinn’s arm. “Of course she texted me!”    
  
“It’s just a cut, Rach,” Quinn laughs. “I’m fine.”    
  
“A huge cut.” Her eyes can’t leave the strip of white covering Quinn’s forearm. “Enough for you to be in the hospital. Is it serious? Is it infected? Do you need surgery? Have they given you anything for the pain?”    
  
Quinn grabs for her hand with the uninjured one and Rachel’s ramble cuts off. “Hey,” she says softly, pulling her closer to the bed. “It’s okay.”    
  
Rachel just shakes her head, tries to keep herself from crying.    
  
“Rachel,” Quinn says softly, ducking her head to make eye contact. “I swear I’m okay. You didn’t have to come all this way. It’s not a big deal.”    
  
Silent for a moment, Rachel tightens her lips together and finally makes eye contact. “I just don’t like hospitals,” she confesses in a whisper. “Or you in them.”    
  
Realization widens in Quinn’s eyes, her fingers tightening around Rachel’s and they both think of the long scar down Quinn’s thigh, the others near her collarbone and side. Memory swirls around them.    
  
“I’ll be fine,” Quinn intones with confidence and Rachel’s heart pulls to two years ago, when Quinn’s certainty was more shaky and Rachel’s assurance more steady. “It’s just a scratch.”    
  
It’s the worst possible place, the worst possible time and it lacks any sort of of romance that Rachel usually demands for moments like these, but she can’t fight the need churning in her gut nor the nervous coil around her heart. It feels like the only way she can express all the emotion inside her is to-   
  
Her lips are pressed against Quinn’s before she can stop herself and her hand cups Quinn’s cheek as she kisses her, firm and sure. Seconds pass and Quinn remains still. So still that Rachel’s sure their friendship is about to take an awful turn, but just as she’s about to pull away and stutter an apolgy, Quinn’s lips move against hers, the hand clinging to Rachel’s pulling her closer.    
  
The hospital fades away, memory fades away, and everything restless in Rachel’s body shudders to a stop against the feeling of Quinn’s mouth against her own. They kiss for long uninterrupted moments before the need for oxygen overwhelms them.    
  
When they break apart, Quinn mumbles soft, warm words against Rachel’s wet lips, “You  _would_  do this in the middle of an emergency room.”    
  
Rachel’s heart thuds heavily against her rib cage. “It’s not funny.”    
  
Quinn pulls back to look her straight in the eye. “I know.”    
  
\--   
  
The fourth time Quinn is in the hospital, Rachel almost slaps her the moment she sees her - healthy and perfect, leaned up against a hallway wall.    
  
“I thought you were hurt or something!” Rachel exclaims the moment she confirms that Quinn is in fact uninjured.    
  
“This isn’t a real hospital,” Quinn replies with a confused wrinkle in her brow.    
  
Rachel’s furious. “You texted  _come to Stevenson Mercy Hospital I need you._  What was I supposed to think? You know how I feel about these sorts of things. I don’t care if it  _is_  a television set right now, you can’t just send me messages like that...”    
  
“Rachel,” Quinn interrupts, wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing a finger to her lips briefly. “Shut up.”    
  
Rachel quirks a challenging eyebrow, but remains silent, handing over the floor to Quinn with a nod of her head.    
  
“I had a break between scenes today and I had something I really needed to ask you. I don’t know when I’ll get the chance to do this with our crazy schedules and it seemed like as good a day as any since it’s Monday and you’re not working and I’ve been meaning to do this for what feels like forever and it just so happens I’m on a medical drama right now, so the setting is sort of perfect,” Quinn takes a deep breath and anticipation builds inside Rachel. Quinn’s not one to ramble in any shape or form and there’s this nervous wrinkle near her eyes that has the gears in Rachel’s brain turning rapidly.    
  
She rubs her hands up Quinn’s arms and it seems to calm her girlfriend just enough to keep her talking.    
  
“So I brought you to the place where you first kissed me-”    
  
“That was in New Haven,” Rachel corrects.    
  
Quinn’s lips tighten into a thin line, her glare clearly conveying how unamused she is. “Not the exact place, but I thought you’d appreciate the imagery regardless,” she says firmly.    
  
Rachel shrugs. “So why are we here then?”    
  
“We’re here because, Rachel Berry...”    
  
A smirk overtakes Quinn’s lips and she puts her hand into the pocket of her white lab coat, pulling out a small black velvet box. Pushing away from Rachel, Quinn bends to one knee and looks up. A gasp drops out of Rachel, hands flying to her mouth.    
  
“What are you doing?” Rachel asks, breathless.    
  
“Asking you to marry me,” Quinn says with confidence.    
  
“In a fake hospital hallway during your  _lunch break_ ?!”    
  
Quinn rolls her eyes. “Yeah, deal with it. If I remember correctly, Finn proposed in our high school auditorium so this has to be a step up-”   
  
“He proposed in the first place we ever kissed,” Rachel says with challenge in her voice. “The  _actual_  first place. So you’re copying Finn Hudson and kind of failing at it actually...”    
  
“Rachel,” Quinn warns.    
  
“Quinn,” Rachel repeats.    
  
“You want to be mad right now, but you’re totally charmed,” Quinn says knowingly. “I can tell. Stop trying to ruin my proposal. We both know you’re loving it.”    
  
“That’s not true,” Rachel lies, stomping her foot lightly.    
  
With a laugh, Quinn stands and takes the ring out of the box, grabbing Rachel’s left hand to slide it on. “Marry me?”    
  
“We’re in a hospital right now,” Rachel pouts. “Our  _thing_  is hospitals? We live in New York City and our  _place_  is hospitals.”   
  
Quinn shrugs. “That’s not really my fault.”   
  
“I suppose I can ultimately appreciate the drama it represents,” Rachel muses. “Our relationship is nothing if not filled with it...”    
  
“Rachel,” Quinn says softly, pressing a kiss to her bottom lip to silence her, then her top. “Answer my question,” she whispers.    
  
“Do you really need me to?”    
  
Quinn kisses her swiftly. “Yes. I do.”    
  
“Stealing my lines,” Rachel says with a soft, playful smile.    
  
“Rachel,” Quinn whines, her forehead against Rachel’s.    
  
“Yes,” Rachel whispers, fingers twisting in blonde hair. “I will marry you.”    
  
With a delighted cry, Quinn lifts her up, arms tight around her waist and twirls them around once, setting her back down with a kiss.    
  
“Maybe this wedding day won’t end with me in a hospital bed,” Quinn jokes when they break apart.    
  
Rachel shoves her in the shoulder. “That’s not funny.”    
  
“I know,” Quinn says, but she laughs anyway and Rachel kisses her.    
  
\--   
  
The fifth time Quinn is in the hospital, Rachel lets her understudy perform in her place for the first time since she took the role. Julia is so shocked that Rachel has to tell her four times until the girl understands what’s going on.    
  
“Feel free to mess up,” Rachel tells her, gathering her things in a speedy fumble in order to get out the door. “It’ll just make my return that much more triumphant.”    
  
There’s a twisted satisfaction in the way Juila’s face falls with fear that Rachel can’t deny feeling. Anything to distract her from the text on her phone from Quinn.    
  
_hospital. now._   
  
The cab ride takes entirely too long and she spends most of it texting Santana Lopez.    
  
_where the hell are you? q’s about to rip my fucking hand off here_   
  
She can almost hear Santana’s tone and it makes her roll her eyes. Her reply is automatic, but her heart stutters for a second when she sees the words she’s typed.    
  
_on my way_   
  
It shouldn’t affect her. It’s been years and Quinn’s alive and well and happy and Rachel’s...   
  
She deletes it with a press of her thumb and tries again,  _be there soon_ , before dropping her phone in her purse for the rest of the ride.    
  
Santana’s shaking her hand out in the hallway with a painful grimace when Rachel turns the corner.    
  
“Santana!”    
  
A sigh of relief is punctuated with an eye roll as Santana presses a quick kiss to Rachel’s cheek in greeting. “You’d think she’d never done this before,” Santana jokes, walking away. “I’m going to get coffee and a damn ice pack.”    
  
Rachel watches her walk away before turning to see Brittany exit with a look of terror in her eyes. She stops when she notices Rachel. “You better get in there,” she says seriously. “She’s been asking for you.”    
  
It’s weird déjà vu to put her hand on the cool metal of the hospital room door and push it open to see Quinn’s figure lying on a bed against the wall, surrounded by monitors.    
  
“Finally,” Quinn snaps out as soon as she sees her. She reaches out immediately for Rachel’s hand and tugs her into the side of the bed.    
  
Rachel’s eyes wander to the doctor at the foot of Quinn’s bed and then the nurse checking something on a computer before back to Quinn’s face, her jaw clenched tight in unmistakable pain. “It’s really happening.”    
  
“Yup,” Quinn bites out.    
  
The first time Quinn went through this, Rachel wasn’t there. She didn’t get to see any of this happen, but she can now. She’s there for every push and every scream and every tight squeeze of Quinn’s grip on Rachel’s hand. She’s there for the sweaty desperation on Quinn’s face and the pained groans she lets out. Most importantly, she’s there for the first cry of their newborn baby and she’s there to stare in wonder at this thing Quinn created. That  _she_  and Quinn created.    
  
Tears well and she wipes them away before they can fall.    
  
They hand the baby to a beaming Quinn and Rachel’s heart bursts at the sight. Quinn props up against the bed, strokes a careful finger down a rosy cheek and Rachel is immediately charmed, completely in love, more elated than she’s ever felt in her entire life.    
  
“Bet it’s the first time you’re happy to see me in one of these beds,” Quinn says softly, taking deep steady breaths as she glances up at Rachel.    
  
Rachel tears her eyes away from the soft bundle that is their son to glare at her wife. “That is  _not_  funny,” she says lowly.    
  
“I know.” Quinn stares at her with warm eyes, a tired smile playing on her lips. “I love you,” she whispers.    
  
Rachel leans over to put her lips against Quinn’s forehead and hums through a smile. “You too.”    
  
They look at their son together, heads close. “I’m turning around on this whole hospital thing,” Rachel whispers.    
  
Quinn laughs and knocks her head into Rachel’s lightly. “Me too, baby. Me too.” 


End file.
